On Grief, Love, and Loss (Part Two - Divorce)

Friends: This is a multiple-part grief series I wrote two years ago, in November 2009. It was raw, unedited and emotionally messy material I penned in the weeks just after my spiritual teacher died - during a time I felt utterly alone in my grief. I've always wanted to post these, but the time has never been right and I don't know if it ever will be. I'm preparing material right now for my second book (the follow-up to Bindi Girl), in which I'll be delving deeper into my spiritual journey in India. Therefore, I've decided to rework this grief material and post it here first. Also, I never know if my readers may be going through similar passages in life; therefore, I like to share these writings in case they offer insight or inspiration during one's time of need.
Love, Erin

(Continued from On Grief, Love, and Loss: Part One - The Guru Dies)

Grief is a difficult emotion to write about. It seems so much easier to write about love. Even anger, or sadness, seems easier.

I can’t put my ‘thoughts’ together. I keep waiting for the day I wake up, like I used to, and some story or missive or vignette will flow forth and I will know for certain, “This is the entry to share with my friends. This is the piece to post.”

But it’s not happening.

Instead, I feel more constricted and alone in my grief. I know there are a few people who are ready to hear it, who can hold me through the tears. It's just so hard to know how to reach out, and how to receive.

How do I know this is the emotion called grief? How do I know it’s different than mourning, depression, or mere clinging to the past?

It feels different. Grief just feels different. And, I’ve been here before – a few times. I’ve been through something called D-I-V-O-R-C-E, so I know this is a similar emotion.

GRIEF AND DIVORCE

My first marriage was monumental, even though it only lasted seven years. It was the real-ationship and male-female partnership where I’d felt truly my-self, for better or for worse. We were truly friends, and I trusted my husband with full exposure.

When the Tower came crashing down at the end, I knew it was merely Life acting through Death, that we were being sent in separate directions in order to keep growing, evolving… and we could not do it together.

With 100% certainty, I knew it was for the Highest Good of All Concerned for my marriage to end. No matter if it was the right thing: even if you know it's gotta go, it's like losing an arm. Needless to say, it hurts like hell.

It took a good year for the most wrenching, intense waves of grief to quell. I was working a super-intense job at the time, one in which I had to be ‘on’ with a happy face, and it was evenings and weekends that I’d sit on balcony overlooking the San Francisco skyline, slowly puffing one cigarette, feeling the ache of the let-go of my married life, the departure of the dream, the passing of an intense love relationship.

And yet, and still, it hurt like a mother. It hurt so bad I’d cry and cry and cry. I never once “wanted him back.” I did wish for his – and of course, my own – ultimate peace and happiness. I knew the past was the past, and it was clearly over. Sure, nostalgia arose – the missing of joyful times, like cross-country skiing in the winter, breakfast in bed and making love on Sunday mornings, having someone to spoon with. Having someone to sing with, to cook for. Someone to have on your team.

It took about two more years for me to stop wondering how the ex was getting on. Slowly, new life entered the fold. The ex got remarried, rapidly, and had children before I’d even had a proper date, let alone boyfriend steady.

I went off to India, Europe, New York City, grad school, and the cosmos, refilling my coffers with adventure, passion, growth – and, eventually, boyfriends, too.

Slowly, slowly, over the course of the next several years, I forgot about my ex-husband, though I never stopped being grateful for the seven years we shared together.

But I was talking about grief, wasn’t I?

I brought up Le Divorce because it evokes the memory that "I've felt this emotion before," and it's here now again. It is real, and I need to talk about it.

Just Spell My Name Right

There’s an old saying in politics and entertainment journalism: “I don’t care what the newspapers say about me as long as they spell my name right.” The line has been attributed to dozens of folks, most notably P.T. Barnum as well as other outspoken figures Mae West, Oscar Wilde, and Mark Twain. And now I’m saying it, too.

The gist of the saying is that there is no bad publicity: you know you’re making waves and getting to be well-known in the world when you receive reviews, whether negative or positive. Today, I joined the “just spell my name right” ranks as I just received my first negatively slanted review of Bindi Girl: Diving Deep Into the Heart of India, which is a top-rated India travel book on Amazon Kindle soon to be released in print.

I’m still human enough to be pleased they emailed me the review directly rather than posting it on Amazon, though it could happen sooner or later. The reviewer was actually quite kind and sensitive toward my feelings (which I find touching) and politely wishes for me to remove certain distasteful chapters. Reflecting now, a book that makes one think – even if it’s unpleasant – must be effective.

(Ed. note - The comments were a letter to me personally, which I removed from this post per reviewer's personal and most polite request.)

Would I change the chapters suggested? Nah. They are part and parcel of Bindi’s unsentimental and often messy journey into the heart – and guts – of India. Not so many solo western women get to travel as the poorer locals do – third class. According to a 2010 Oxford University study, 55% of India’s population lives in poverty. So my reporting, gross and uncomfortable as it may be to read (for a cozy person living in clean hygienic western standards) is accurate. Kudos, Bindi.

I suppose I’ll never be heralded as a squeaky-clean, holier-than-thou spiritual gal. Shucks. I’m a seeker of the roll-up-the-sleeves, rule-breakin’ variety, and I’ll probably never be embraced by the devout as their spokesmodel. Every single morsel of wisdom has come through viscerally experiencing the Divine directly. And sometimes, that means Bindi boldly goes where the average traveler would never normally go.

Don't have a Kindle and want to read Bindi Girl?
Read it on your PC or Mac with the free Kindle Cloud Reader at read.amazon.com.

The Dark Night of the Soul

This article is lovingly dedicated to those readers who are going through difficult times in the life.

Namaste, Erin

Varanasi on the Ganges

Diwali, October 2009

We’ve heard the proverbial term, ‘dark night of the soul,’ to refer to a particularly painful, seemingly hopeless point in the life – a period where nothing makes sense anymore. When we're in such a state, no matter where we turn, it feels like there is only emptiness. But this isn’t the sort of spacious emptiness or soul “spaciousness” we yearn for and aim for in meditative living. No, it is a deficient emptiness. Even to muster hope feels utterly useless and meaningless.

I’ve experienced my fair share of Dark Nights of the Soul in my life, yet it wasn’t until recently that I learned it is a term first used by 16th-century Christian mystic, Saint John of the Cross. The Dark Night of the Soul has at times been referred to as the Spiritual Emergency or spiritual crisis.

I’m here to remind you of something that you may remember the next time you’re way down in those gloomy depths: Believe it or not, The Dark Night of the Soul is a good thing.

Last spring, while in a spiritual transformation process, I went down to the bottom of my soul in a bucket – numb, uncaring, depressed… a pitch-black venture down into the earth’s molten core of my being - ‘taint pretty in there! It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s necessary.

A dark night of the soul primarily occurs when the old self-image is ready to go. This is the outdated identification of who you think you are – the ego structure. When the self-image becomes calcified in any way, a dark night of the soul comes rumbling in like storm clouds. Of course, there are myriad ways we try to push it away, like distractions and self-medication. But eventually, even those stop working, and we can’t resist. It is not just depression, though it can feel like it, and it is a form of ‘low pressure’ internal meteorology situation.

There is apathy, and a near-suicidal feeling, like “I’m just plain DONE.” It feels like an end of life – and, in effect, it is. There is a sense of “I don’t know what could come next and frankly, I can’t muster any feeling to care.”

A Dark Night of the Soul can last months, years, or even lifetimes. Perhaps the time correlates to the degree of ego identification – how hardened that self-image is. Who you thought you were is dying. It is not your physical body passing away.

One of the most curious appearances of the dark night is when it crops up in otherwise truly positive, ‘spiritual,’ healthy folks. How could this occur? Two reasons: first, the positive, healthy, loving, spiritual emanation has itself become a self-identification (even “nice” personas are eventually painful); second, the soul knows you are ready to enter a dark night experience; the soul is strong, aware, and courageous enough to go through this period of consciousness.

For spiritually inclined people, one of the hardest parts of a dark night is that it seems even God (Consciousness, Spirit, Higher Power, Existence, the Universe) has abandoned us.


EXOSKELETON: THE SELF-IMAGE TRAP

The self-image is an invisible shell that comprises who you think you are…

I had a vivid, wild dream last spring around the time of my dark night of the soul. I dreamt I had an exoskeleton – an external shell that was like a human cage. It was made of metal. It appeared that it would protect the soft underbelly and vulnerable human within, but in reality it was uncomfortable, cramping, cutting, and even biting me with its razor-sharp edges like teeth. It was a violent shell, and I couldn’t move about without harming myself in the process.

When I woke, I knew immediately that it was symbolic of the self-image – the body-life mask we wear to protect ourselves, but is ultimately harmful.

The key with the dark night is to not resist; JUST SAY NO to the glomming self-image that says you need to be pretty and pleasant. Be depressed. Hate everything. Be ugly. Do you need medication? Maybe. Maybe not. You and your health care advisor will decide. Most often, I’d venture to say the answer is NO. You can ‘give in’ to the experience. It’s a death process – a part of you IS dying.

THE DARK NIGHT AND SPIRITUAL AWAKENING

Even in ‘awakened’ people, the dark night process occurs. Eli Jaxon-Bear, a non-dual spiritual teacher whom I respect along with his wife Gangaji, faced a dark night that he calls a "resurrection through hell" upon coming out about an affair (Shift Network webcast, spring 2011). This occurred some twenty years after his primary spiritual awakening. Eli admits that even in being awake, there is still a state – the blissful state – that is also a TEMPORARY place. After coming out honestly about his affair with another woman, the whole façade, the self-image of what it meant to be a ‘Spiritual Teacher’ came crashing down: slander, rejection – all of it flew in through the window. Yes, it was hell. And yes, it passed to reveal a new cycle of spiritual evolution. As many spiritual masters have explained, waking up is just the beginning.

THE GIFTS OF DEPRESSION

Author and Christian mystic Thomas Moore has a great chapter called “The Gifts of Depression” in his book Care of the Soul, in which he states, “…we may have to develop a taste for the depressed mood, a positive respect for its place in the soul’s cycles.”

In 2007, I wrote Mr. Moore directly to thank him for these insights. He in turn replied how perfect it was to hear from me at that exact time because, you guessed it: he was going through dark tunnels himself. One does not simply get a 'degree' of graduating; the transformation goes deeper throughout a spiritual life.

EVOLUTION OF THE SOUL IS NOT LINEAR

The cycle of expansion of consciousness is hardly linear; it is more of a spiral. When we grow higher and brighter, the soul has capacity to plunge into deeper and darker territory. When we go further into dark places, it appears (though there is no guarantee) that a growth spurt of fresh awareness and expansion follows. Expand, contract. Contract, expand. When we plummet to the depths, the place where ‘you’ barely exist at all, it is likely you will emerge with a gift. It is like the Hero’s Journey described by Joseph Campbell in the Power of Myth. There’s a grail in that there murky, monstrous place of meaninglessness.

The last time I went through a dark night, the usual raging flame of awareness became a tiny dot, a wee spark of “I.” It was as if “I” might completely disappear into the inky black void, and yes, it feels like borderline madness.

Luckily I’ve experienced surfing of consciousness, and I know that it is OK to dissolve into the Nothingness that is Everything, to release the illusory separation and settle into EXISTENCE.

Remember:
(1) you’re not alone
(2) you’re not crazy
(3) you are okay
(4) allow it to take as long as it takes

Let me reiterate an important point: resistance is futile. Attempting to do anything to FIX a real dark night of the soul may only make it worse or last longer. See, what you are most likely going to try to do, courtesy of the superego of society’s ‘should’ approach, is attempt to DO something. That very doing-of-something will likely help perpetuate the very ego structure, the self-image that is dying.

Guides, therapists, healers and shamans can be useful at this time. Priests and priestesses, monks and nuns who have the understanding may be able to hold space for the unraveling. Yet, if the counselor or therapist attempts to fix things, sugarcoat, or make you feel better, they probably don’t get it, and they certainly haven’t gone through the eye of the needle themselves. Remember that the best source to ‘hold’ you in this dark place is the very Self.

Erin Reese is an intuitive consultant, astrologer, author, and spiritual counselor. She works with her clients worldwide via Skype, phone and email.

Big Decision On Your Plate? Try This!

Have a big decision on your plate and have NO IDEA what to choose? Try my favorite "What's Cookin'?" approach - a lot more fun than coin-flippin'!

Now, let's talk about pasta.
Yes, pasta.

Spaghetti. Fettuccine. Vermicelli. Whatever. I don't care if it's Udon.

If you're feeling stuck, stewing and brewing, wondering what you're meant to be doing in this great big crucible of life, perhaps it's time to let out your inner Italian mama.

Q: When you're cooking spaghetti, how do you know when the noodles are ready?
A: Hmmm...ummm... I dunno. Throw it against the wall, and see if it sticks?!?

Ding, ding, ding! Right answer!

If you're stirring in the proverbial pot of decision-making, churning this way and that, throw some spaghetti against the wall and SEE WHAT STICKS.

Whether the question is, "Should I move to New York or stay in San Francisco?" or "Should I take the receptionist job to pay the bills, or chuck it all and hit the road?" or "Should I go back to school or become an entrepreneur?" - the bottom line is, ya gotta get out there and INTERACT with life.

Shoot the resume off to the most unlikely place you've considered. Contact the movers and shakers and ask for the grant funding. Pick up the phone, call the person, and ask 'em out for coffee, for heaven's sake.

Hell, you'll certainly never know until you try. Don't beat your noggin-noodle against the wall; instead, throw that spaghetti-noodle against the wall!

If it doesn't take hold, you're not done boilin' yet, baby. Just keep stirring the pot. Turn up the heat a little. Stay in the alchemy.

Then, try again.

Eventually, something will stick.

Now you're cookin'.

Buon Appetito!

Love,
Mama Celeste

Cash and the Cosmos: Your Astro Guide to Money

OK, so maybe you can't tell the IRS that you lost your tax records because you're a Pisces...

Where does all your money go, anyway? No other area of modern life causes more stress in than keeping up adequate cash flow. Perhaps you, too, have had sleepless nights, lying awake and wondering, "How can I ever pay off this mounting debt, pay the bills, and make rent, let alone save for retirement?"

Knowing the spending habits of your Sun Sign may not instantly bring a bushel of bucks to your bank account. But a little financial self-awareness goes a long way in increasing your bottom line. Here's what motivates you when it comes to your money.

ASTROLOGER ERIN notes: This is just for fun, folks! Don't forget to read your Rising Sign, and your Moon Sign, too - if you know them. For a fully personalized astrological consultation based on your birth chart, contact me directly.


Aries:
Impulsive, rash, and a bit careless with the cash – that's you, Aries. When you want something, you want it now. If that red Porsche or bungee-jumping seminar appeals to you, you won't bat an eyelash about plunking down the payment. Rein it in just a bit, so you won't see that Visa bill skyrocketing higher than your lofty ambition.

Taurus:
Comfort-loving Taurus, you consistently cultivate cash, so you can lounge about on the weekends. You keep plenty in the coffers for the good life. For entertainment, you track the stock market daily (they don't call a strong Dow average a "bull" market for nothing!). While couch surfing, you watch financial planning gurus on TV, taking notes on mutual funds and retirement strategies.

Gemini:
How many ATM withdrawals did you make this week and fail to get a receipt? You're so busy you forget money exists. Waiters holler after you while you're tearing down the street to your next appointment. Get a little more grounded with your money, Gem. Remember: the bank's not going to buy it when you tell them your evil Twin has been bouncing checks again.

Cancer:
Cautious Crab, you're a whizbang with your wallet and the best saver in the Zodiac! You want to be a stay-at-home mom or dad, so find a partner to work while you're at home with the kids. You love home cooking, and scrimping on the dining out will save some dough. Your spending weak spots: home remodeling, new furnishings, and groovy garden equipment.

Leo:
For you, regal Leo, cash is king. Your sense of entitlement and "I Deserve It All" nature ensure you never miss out on the good life. A jaunt to Paris, a sexy bauble, a bottle of Dom Perignon - nothing is too fine for you, a luxury-lover with champagne taste. Make sure your employer knows you're the master, too, or Mastercard will topple you from your throne.

Virgo:
OK, Virgo, stop worrying whether you'll save another dollar on Post-Its at the warehouse outlet. Surely, you have other details to lose sleep over. You've got your numbers organized to a "T," with years of records on Quicken, backed up on a spreadsheet, and filed away in hard copy, right at your fingertips. A bonus when dining with friends: when the check comes, you'll doubly ensure it's properly divided with tax and tip, to the penny.

Libra:
Fashion tickles your fancy, Libra, and your closet holds more designer pieces than New York's Fashion Week. And, as the Zodiac's socialite extraordinaire, you're known for hosting fabulous, catered parties that your friends rave about for months. You lovely Libras never want your work life to interfere with your social life, so find yourself a nice benefactor so you can spend your days shopping and sampling caviar.

Scorpio:
Just like everything, Scorpio, when it comes to money, your keyword is possession. You control your cash just like your emotions. When you invest, you make sure it's only the best. No cheap, throwaway goodies for you; whatever you buy has quality written all over it. Purchases must be built-to-last and durable, just like you. Watch that your secret sentimental streak doesn't get the best of you when your favorite charity asks you to cough it up. You're a softie under all that toughness.

Sagittarius:
Yes, Sag, we know you must travel. It's not just a luxury for the adventure-loving Archer; it's a necessity. You're happy living off rice and beans so that you can take off and climb Kilimanjaro. Your 401(k) needs a little lift, however, since you've spent the last of it on yet another round-the-world ticket. Get a job that combines your freedom-loving nature with a stable paycheck. Otherwise you'll be stuck surfing the 'Net instead of sailing the seven seas.

Capricorn:
Ambition is your middle name, Cap, and your savings account is likely just as solid as your rung on the corporate ladder. You hold the keys to Fort Knox, you're so darn strict with your cash. But goodness, guarded Goat, will you loosen up on the greenbacks? We know you're saving for the empire you're building, but a little fun and frolic could do you right. Stop and smell the flowers on your way up the mountain - and pick some up on the way home from work, too.

Aquarius:
You navigate your money like you're in outer space. The best bet for you, Aquarius, is to get yourself a financial manager, so you don't have to think about the material realm any more than necessary. You'll whip out your wallet to help a homeless person. Problem is, how to afford it? Come down to earth and give your fellow humans the pleasure of your company, and you might be able to save enough cash to pay the bills.

Pisces:
Pisces, you'd prefer to never have to think about money again. Come on, admit it: you'd rather spend your days meditating, taking a bubble bath, sipping cocktails - all at once. Enjoy now, pay later - that's your financial motto. But even the daydreaming Fish has to wake up and smell the coffee, so keep your day job and save your seashells. Pisces are suckers for new shoes, being ruled by their feet. Put down that extra pair of Manolo Blahniks and walk away.

On Grief, Love and Loss (Part One - The Guru Dies)

Two years ago today, on September 27, 2009 at 9 a.m. on the ninth day of the Navratri festival of the Goddess, my beloved teacher, guru, and spiritual friend Ramesh Balsekar took mahasamadhi at his home in Bombay. Mahasamadhi is when a realized master finally and intentionally leaves the body to merge with the infinite. Since there is no ego identification, it is said that a sage enters the ultimate (maha) non-dual consciousness (samadhi).

When I got the call, I was an overnight train ride away – working on my Bindi Girl book along the seaside in south India – and knew I couldn’t get north in time for the cremation pyre. When I got the news, my world stopped. There was only silence, and that silence was deafening. Never again would I behold the great spirit and force of Nature that was my guru as embodied Consciousness, in the flesh known as Ramesh.

Even now, two years later, I am only beginning to understand the indescribable union between teacher and student that occurs in a guru-disciple relationship; there is a fusion of hearts and minds that makes it possible for the soul to surrender identification with the ego. It seems to be a combination of the power of defeat and the power of love.

In the days and months that followed my teacher’s passing, my soul experienced an overpowering transformation: intense grief at the loss of a part of my self (like an amputation), combined with a quickening. It was as if this body-mind known as Erin had been placed into a sort of quantum microwave. In a microwave, all the particles are scattered about, vibrating faster than the speed of light, disembodied from the original matter even though things still appear cohesive. Amazingly, such a vibrating mass of consciousness appears to be a whole substance, but there is really only empty space between particles, and empty space within those same particles. Finally, there is only empty space.

And my own ‘empty space’ was getting cooked. My soul wanted to leave the body and dissolve into Consciousness to join my teacher. I couldn’t ground. I fell down a flight of stairs in a monsoon downpour and could have broke my neck. I slipped and smashed my tailbone on a moss-covered bathing platform while stepping into the Ganges to offer flowers during puja. Twice (once in Varanasi and once in Rishikesh) I thought someone dosed me by putting an illicit substance into my chai, I was so high. The phenomenal world grew increasingly permeable and my spirit was lighter than a kite; my soul wanted to fly, far away into another dimension.

The grief rattled me to the core. The hardest part was the fact that hardly anyone could relate or offer meaningful condolences. So-called “spiritual people” would try to tell me I had no reason to be sad, that my guru would always be with me. That didn’t help at all – I was still human, for crying out loud. I still felt feelings! I peered into spiritual texts to see if any sages or students had written or spoke of what happens when a guru dies. I found a couple passages, and I clung to those with all my might: The first was in the classic Autobiography of a Yogi, when Paramhansa Yogananda loses his master, Sri Yukteshwar. He cries the entire river Ganges that he’ll never behold his beloved teacher in person again. The second comfort was the story of Ananda, most devoted servant of the Buddha, who felt his sorrow so deeply the night Gautama the Buddha took mahasamadhi, that he became enlightened through the sheer force of grief piercing his very heart.

A few friends urged me to discuss Ramesh’s death with other disciples, that surely the sangha (spiritual fellowship) would lend support, surely they would understand. I found talking to fellow students, in my case, less than comforting. Whether others were deferring their grief or processing it differently (likely), there seemed to be a rationalizing of the process, such that because one intellectually knows that nothing is born and nothing dies, particularly the mind of an enlightened being, that there should be nothing to cry about.

NOTHING could be further from the truth.

The force of our emotions IS the VERY STUFF OF LIFE, whether grief, joy, ecstasy, laughter, or even anger. My quaking sobs affirmed that I was ALIVE, damn it, I could feel. I have a vital, awakened HEART that can be penetrated and touched, affected to the core.

Intellectualizing or bypassing the emotions, which live in our BODIES where we can FEEL them, is a missed opportunity to experience the rapture of pure existence, which can only be experienced in duality, directly, in the physical body, in the here and now.

It is through our grief that we realize how much we LOVE.

To be continued.

Grin and Bear It

We never know when we’re going to have a spiritual epiphany. It can happen anytime, anywhere. Take last week, for instance. I got one of those Unmistakable Insights while held hostage for two hours in the dentist’s chair.

If that doesn’t make you already go “Ohhhhhh,” add that it was during a root canal.

Oh, that most fun of procedures. It was my first time. I was quaking with fear. Friends warned me. “You’re going to have your mouth torqued open for two hours straight,” they said. “Like a trapped snake.”

Another well-meaning friend advised me to wear an iPod during the procedure. The music would drown out the horrid drill driving down into my root like a jackhammer from hygiene hell. I thought that sounded like a great idea. Since my iPod is on the fritz, the dentist gave me a radio to listen to. I cranked up the rock and roll station, thinking that the Rolling Stones’ bump ‘n grind should do well to compete with the endodontist’s grinding down through my enamel into my pulpy nerve.

I was quaking in fear when the drill bit started to whirr and chip away. I couldn’t feel anything due to the four shots of novocaine. But it didn’t matter. I wanted to go unconscious. I turned up the music louder.

“YOU’RE GOING TO HEAR A POP,” shouted the surgeon, for he knew I was hard of hearing at that point. “THAT’S THE MOMENT WHEN THE DRILL GOES THROUGH YOUR CROWN.”

Good lord, I cringed. That sounds horrid! What the hell does he mean, a pop?! What if he hits my nerve directly, my raw pulpy nerve that is about to be plucked out for all eternity. It’s gonna be like that movie 127 Hours, when he cuts off his own arm and slices through the nerve. I am going to die.

Observing myself, I realized I was visibly shaking and my knees were practically knocking on the reclined chair. The twanging guitars and frenetic vocals on the radio headset were disorienting. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. As the next buzz and drone of the drill made contact with my sick tooth, I carefully reached up and yanked the earbuds out of my ears.

“Something wrong?” asked the dentist behind his mouth mask. He reminded me of some necessary-evil Doctor Death; I’d never before seen a dentist wearing all-black scrubs. I told myself it was because he was a karate black belt healer, not the grim reaper. Besides, I knew I was in the very best hands, being a reputed professor of dentistry at UCSF.

“No, it’s OK. I don’t need the headphones.” I had suddenly realized that it was a million times better to face one’s root canal directly. With the music spinning through my brain, I couldn’t make heads or tails of the procedure. I realized: I NEED TO BE CONSCIOUS in order to understand what is happening.

Without the music, I could hear the surgeon and his nurse communicating back and forth as they passed their tools, filling material and epoxy to each other. “B17,” the doctor would say, and she’d plop another drill bit on my chest for him to use next. “2BCF,” he’d say, and she’d prepare the next layer of sealant. I was sitting there in the middle of my very own Dental Bingo, and my mouth was the playing card. And I felt so much better.

“Very good,” I heard him say every now and again, when he’d bore deeper into my gums. I paid close attention when those pliers came out and he ripped up that root, albeit slowly and gently. Who’d have thought a nerve would be so damned big and mighty?

All the while, I paid attention, and stopped shivering in fear.

Not only was I being healed, the tooth fairies left an added bonus: The truth of AWARENESS. Awareness and attention reduce 99.9% of the agony. It is far better to be conscious, awake, undistracted when facing a painful procedure or even a terrifying life situation. We instantly become more peaceful when we are present to what is happening. Part of us calms down. We are witness, not victim, to the process. No matter how hellish the scenario, everything is instantly more bearable.

And besides, even with those headphones stuffed in your ears, you can still hear the damn drill.